Gem Among Rocks
by Ghostwriter Redux
Summary: 'Forgive me for being so bold but surely people do not fall in love after barely knowing each other a day-' 'If it's any consolation Master Baggins, it has been a very, very long day after all…' Pairing: Thorin/OC. Romance and Humor.
1. Meeting the Damsel

A/N: Chapters 1-3 have been revised, thanks to the wonderful efforts of my new super-duper swish beta reader, insanity and co. So here's the cleaner version.

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Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit, Professor Tolkien does and Peter Jackson owns the Movie-verse. I don't own my cover photo, merely my OC and make no profit from writing this. I almost forgot! I don't own the rights to 'Royals' by Lorde either so here's hoping I don't get sued! Yay!

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Chapter One: Meeting the Damsel (Or 'In which Thorin discovers this damsel isn't as distressed as he originally believes...')

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"What a pretty little thing you-argh!" the Great Goblin shrieked as sharp teeth dug into his finger, courtesy of the fiery-tempered Fae he had the audacity to be poking and prodding at. Vibrant green, feline-like eyes were narrowed dangerously in his direction though the iron cage she sat in left her relatively harmless, save for her sharp teeth and equally sharp wit.

She spat out a mouthful of blood, wiping her lips with the back of her hand before folding her arms over her chest defiantly. He scowled at her, cradling his injured hand to his chest like the overgrown baby he was.

"How dare you-!" he roared, towering over her cage though she merely rolled her eyes.

"I am far from impressed by that posturing of yours," she replied icily, hearing the other goblins shriek at her insolence.

"String her up!"

"Bleed her dry!"

"Cut out her tongue!"

"Yeah!" The battle cry went up.

"Silence!" the king roared and they immediately obeyed.

This was quite a fine mess she had gotten herself into, no doubt about that.

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_"Do not venture into the High Pass, small one. Goblins lurk in the caves of the Misty Mountains, preying on unsuspecting travelers."_

_"I understand. I will not journey the Pass unless I have no other choice."_

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It wasn't entirely a lie as Fae were unable to do so. She merely caused a small (i.e. ginormous) rockslide on accident (i.e. purpose) and thus had to take the High Road as a result. Armed with a set of knives, a crossbow with a quiver full of bolts and all the power her mother's bloodline gifted her with, she fearlessly took the pass.

_'Hindsight, hindsight, hindsight_,' she mused to herself, remembering the speed of which the goblins ambushed her, disarming her with embarrassing ease and taking her captive. Good grief, she had landed herself in quite a sticky situation, hadn't she? Though, there were worse beings she could have been captured by like…like…

…

Well, you get it.

Pursing her lips, she began sulking like a child who hadn't gotten their way, ignoring how every little move she made jostled her cage over the empty chasm. Slouching cautiously back against the bars and making sure they didn't touch her skin she shut her eyes, trying her best to work on an escape plan.

Preoperative word being 'tried' as she found herself being poked once more. She glared at the Goblin King tiredly.

"Can ya' sing?"

"Not well."

"Sing something for me, little bird." He laughed harshly as the other goblins joined in. "Could do with some entertainment."

The honey-haired Faerie sighed, clearing her throat before parting her lips and beginning to do so.

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Bilbo raised his head from his pack that he had been using as a pillow, glancing around to make sure the dwarves were all asleep. He stood, picking his way through the slumbering Company with catlike tread, careful not to make too much noise. He had just about reached the exit to the cave when he heard someone address him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The hobbit spun around in surprise, nearly tripping over Dwalin as he looked to Bofur who had been on watch. "Um, I was just-." Bilbo sighed, realizing it was useless to try and beat around the bush. "I was heading back to Rivendell."

Bofur's eyes widened at those words as he jumped up from his seat. "You can't leave now! You're part of the Company, you're one of us."

Bilbo was touched by those words and smiled sadly at the toymaker. "I'm not though, am I? Thorin said I never should have come and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins," Bilbo trailed off with a sigh. "I don't know what I was thinking. I never should have run out my door."

"You're homesick, that's all. I understand."

It was the stress of the day that made Bilbo snap at the dwarf. "No you don't! You don't understand!" he whispered harshly as Bofur took a step back in surprise. "None of you do. You're dwarves, you're used to-to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere."

As soon as the words left his lips Bilbo felt like he was quite possibly the worst hobbit in the world, seeing how affronted and hurt Bofur looked. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-."

"No, you're right. We don't belong anywhere," Bofur trailed off before forcing a smile to his lips as he rested his hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "I wish you all the luck in the world, I really do."

The hobbit swallowed thickly but before he could change his mind and stay he turned to exit the cave. Just as he took his next step he heard the tinkerer say, "What's that?"

"What's what?" Bilbo glanced down, seeing a faint blue glow coming from the sheathe on his hip. He pulled the sword out partway, the blade glowing bright blue, signaling there were Orcs nearby.

He looked at the dwarf before him in alarm before hearing Thorin call out, "Get up. Wake up!"

Before anyone could react, the faint sound of gears grinding together intensified and moments later the cave floor opened up beneath them and they fell down a long chute. Flailing elbows and knees were jabbed unpleasantly into softer body parts and it was a miracle no one was bisected by a stray ax. They were all battered, disoriented and sporting several new bruises each by the time the shaft ended and they all tumbled arse over head into a large wooden cage.

There was very little time to react when goblins suddenly poured forth from the dark crevices around them. The filthy creatures yanked at their clothes, using the confusion caused by the sudden fall they had endured to disarm them. They were herded down a narrow walkway, kicking and yelling the entire time and wondering what dreadful place they'd had the misfortune to stumble into this time.

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Thorin struggled against his captor's tight hold, but there was far too many of them to fight off. He could hear other goblins singing an off-tune song in the darkness, the lyrics quite disconcerting in fact;

_"Clap snap, the black crack_

_Grip, grab, pinch, and nab_

_Batter and beat_

_Make 'em stammer and squeak!_

_Pound pound, far underground_

_Down, down, down in Goblin Town!"_

He shared a look with Balin who looked about as worried as he felt. The Company was rushed towards a large platform surrounded by dozens of the foul creatures before hearing another voice carry over the goblins' lewd singing. It was feminine, dulcet yet low in pitch, like nothing he had ever heard before.

"Louder, little bird. Don't disappoint our guests!" Thorin's eyes landed on a goblin much larger than the others sitting atop a haphazard throne, holding a mace topped with a skull. He heard the singing again, a bit more forceful this time.

"We'll never be royals. It don't run in our blood. That kind of lux just ain't for us, we crave a different kind of buzz. Let me be your ruler, you can call me 'Queen Bee' and baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule-let me live that fantasy." At those words, his gaze turned to a small creature sitting in a cage to the large goblin's right. Her clothes were tattered, blood had dried on the side of her face from a nasty gash on her forehead and her eyes were shut as though she were exhausted.

"Very good little bird, now silence!" The dwarves jumped in alarm at the volume of the Goblin King's voice though she didn't bat an eyelash. Thorin was briefly aware of the so-called 'King' beginning to address them as her eyes opened to slits of liquid emerald, locking on his.

His breath lodged in his throat and all he could see in that moment was the honey-haired siren that had bewitched him with her lovely voice and eyes. She was a pretty little thing, no doubt about that, and he found himself desperately wishing he knew her name.

That is, until she opened her mouth again…

"What the hell are you staring at?" she spat rudely, eyes narrowed dangerously in his direction and Thorin blinked in surprise. He was unable to keep a reluctant smile from gracing his lips and turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

It seemed Aulë had a fondness for toying with his creations, especially where the Line of Durin was concerned. He could only hope he was wrong, that the fiery lass was not his One because Durin knows he did not handle immaturity well.

Mahal have mercy on all of them if that was the case…

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Onwards! (so many line breaks~!)


	2. Resucing the Damsel, Part One

A/N: As said last chapter, 1-3 have been polished thanks to my aweshum beta reader, insanity and co who puts up with my grammar mishaps. It is important you reread this chapter (if you don't read any of the other two) as something very important happens at the end and if you miss it it won't make sense later on.

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Disclaimer: The Hobbit was written by JRR Tolkien, Movie-verse is all Peter Jackson. I own nothing you recognize, including the cover photo. All I own is my OC and make no money off this.

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Chapter Two: Rescuing the Damsel, Part One (Or 'in which Thorin discovers the damsel's name and liberates said-damsel from her ghastly imprisonment [or something to that effect...]'

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After finishing the chorus of 'Royals', the Fae yawned tiredly, eyes falling to half-mast as they landed on the group of dwarves (or did they prefer to be called 'little people'?) being paraded before the Goblin King, whom she had dubbed 'Ugly David Bowie'. Her gaze landed on the one closest who seemed to be the tallest of the assembled company. He had sable hair with the faintest of gray streaked in it reaching passed his shoulders (a bit longer than hers, in fact) and it was intricately braided. He also had neatly kept facial hair. Having always been a sucker for scruffy guys, both before and after her arrival in Arda she thought he was gorgeous, not to mention he had very pretty blue eyes.

And it just so happened those vibrant blue eyes of his locked on hers.

His gaze was powerful, drawing her in and she found herself unable to hold it for long. Her breath lodged in her throat, chest tightening almost painfully. It felt as though she was drowning but in some twisted way, she never wanted it to end.

She hated it.

"What the hell are you staring at?" she spat in annoyance, breaking eye contact with him and exhaling a soft sigh of relief when she did so. The goblins had tossed the group's weapons into a pile at the 'King's' feet as said-King stepped down from his throne, trampling several goblins underfoot as he did so.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?!" he bellowed, looking at each of them in turn.

She couldn't contain the disbelieving snort that escaped her at those words. He glared at her over his shoulder though she simply flashed him a wolfish smile that showcased her teeth still faintly stained with his blood from earlier.

"Dwarves, your malevolence." The Great Goblin turned his attention back to one of his lesser minions.

"Dwarves?"

"Turn up your hearing aid, old man," she called from her cage.

"Silence Fae! I will deal with you soon enough," he said, angered that she kept interrupting him

"Yessir, found 'em on the front porch." She cocked a brow at that as the Great Goblin looked over at her, expecting a smartass remark but she remained silent for a change and smiled sweetly at him.

"Well, don't just stand there you fools! Search them! Every crack, every crevice!" She cringed when the goblins did just that, throwing away whatever they found. Having been subject to a 'goblin frisk' herself several hours earlier, she knew it was quite an unpleasant thing to experience. She frowned disapprovingly when she saw an ear trumpet belonging to an older dwarf be thrown to the ground and crushed.

When the goblins were done, Ugly Bowie addressed them once more. "What are you doing in these parts? Speak!"

None of the dwarves did so.

His upper lip curled into a sneer. "Very well, if they won't talk, we'll make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! And start with the youngest."

"Wait." Just as the gremlins began tugging at a handsome young dark-haired dwarf with a five o'clock shadow, the tallest of the group stepped forward.

The Goblin King held up a hand to halt his minions, looking down upon the dwarf. "Well, well, well. What have we here? Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror; King Under the Mountain."

_'King huh_?' She thought to herself. He did have a regal aura about him, she noticed the more she studied him before feeling a warm blush creep up the back of her neck. She turned her head away upon realizing she was totally staring at him.

"Thorin," she said quietly enough so no one could hear, liking how smoothly his name rolled off her tongue.

The Great Goblin bowed mockingly to Thorin. "Oh, but I'm forgetting. You don't have a mountain. And you're not a king which makes you a…well, nobody, really."

"Ass," she muttered, folding her arms over her chest and watching the exchange.

"I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours." A slow smile spread over the Great Goblin's face. "A Pale Orc astride a White Warg."

"Well shit," she cursed, knowing full-well who he was talking about and judging by the surprise and disbelief on Thorin's face, she reckoned he knew who Ugly Bowie was speaking of as well

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago!" He had a voice like dark velvet; smooth, rich, and oh Valar she was blushing _again_!

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" Ugly Bowie laughed before turning his attention to a gremlin sitting in a small basket holding a slate. "Send word to the Pale Orc. Tell him I have found his prize."

The tiny goblin nodded, scribbling his orders down on the slate and reaching for the lever above his head but paused when the Great Goblin spoke once more. "Also, be sure to tell his son we have the troublesome faerie he's been after."

"Well, shit," she swore once more as the messenger elicited a high-pitched cackle of delight, pulling the lever and flying down a network of ropes and pulleys into the darkness below. So that's what he meant when he said he would deal with her later…

Unbridled fear surged through her with so much power she couldn't breathe. This was bad, this was so, so, so, so, _so_ bad!

As she was busy having a panic and/or heart attack she didn't realize she was hyperventilating, clutching the bars of her cage so tightly her knuckles had turned stark white. She hissed in pain, yanking her hands back and examining the raised blisters on her fingers from just a moment of touching the iron.

"Smooth move, you moron," she muttered, blowing lightly on her fingers to ease the sting and wincing as she did so. The Fae glanced up, looking at the small company, eyes lingering on each dwarf in turn but completely passing over Thorin.

A group of goblins began carrying out what looked like medieval torture devices. She recognized one as a rack, one as the wheel, another as a cat's paw and a scavenger's daughter. Seemed like she had gotten off easy in retrospect but then she thought about what Bolg would have in store for her and that nearly set off another panic attack.

Not to mention the god-awful song and dance number the Great Goblin had decided to burst into; "Bones will be shattered, necks will be wrung. You'll be beaten and battered, from racks you'll be hung. You will lie down here and never be found, down in the deep of Goblin Town!"

It was…disturbingly catchy, she had to admit.

Just as he finished his dance, one of his lackey's who had been examining the pile of weapons picked up a sword, sliding it a few inches out of its sheathe, the blade shining with a cold light. The lackey gasped, throwing the sword down and it landed before the other goblins who shrieked in fear and anger.

She was treated to the entertaining sight of the Great Goblin racing for his throne, trampling a couple minions on his way as he scrambled atop it, clinging to the back of it dramatically. She cocked a brow, wondering how the sight of a simple sword could elicit such a powerful reaction from the goblins.

"I know that sword! Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver! The blade that sliced a thousand necks!"

Elvish make then? That would explain his fear though it didn't explain why a dwarf had such a blade in his possession. Last she had heard the two factions weren't on good terms with one another.

She winced as the goblins began attacking the dwarves, clawing at them and whipping them with rope; "Slash them! Beat them! Kill them all!" Ugly Bowie looked between the dwarrows frantically before pointing at Thorin and bellowing. "Cut off his head!"

_'Aw man_,' she thought despairingly to herself as a few gremlins grabbed the gorgeous dwarf, holding him down as one drew a knife, preparing to behead him.

Suddenly there was an explosion of white light. She raised her arm, shielding her eyes from it as a shockwave ripped through the area, flinging goblins in the air and destroying the torture devices. Everyone else was knocked off their feet, including the Great Goblin. The poor girl tried to ignore the new blisters appearing on her recently-healed hands as she clung to her cage for dear life. It spun around violently, nearly making her sick before most of the lights extinguished in the area, throwing the caves into darkness.

Clasping a hand over her mouth and swallowing the bile that had worked its way into her throat, she stared queasily at the shadowy figure across the cavern before it stepped into the light.

A groan of annoyance escaped her when she saw it was Gandalf. Of course it was, who else would arrive in the nick of time to save everyone? Pursing her lips she watched the dwarves and goblins begin to recover, staring at the wizard.

"Take up arms," he called, raising his sword and staff. "Fight…fight!"

Those words seemed to strike a chord with the company as they leapt up and an all-out brawl began between dwarf and goblin.

"Get him! Poke him in the eye! Go for his kidneys!" she yelled, unable to do anything else at the time but play cheerleader.

She watched as they tore into the goblin ranks with ease, waiting for someone to come free her and was incredibly discouraged when they seemed more intent on running off than helping her.

"Um, gentlemen? A little help?" she exclaimed nervously, looking frantically towards Gandalf and then to the goblin who had hopped on top of her cage and began sawing through the rope that held it up.

The cage dipped dangerously to the left and she swallowed thickly. She really, really didn't want to die like this. She wanted her death to be epic, not something lame like 'falling to her death in a fracking birdcage thanks to a fracking gremlin'.

He raised the knife once more, about to drive it through the remainder of the rope before an arrow pierced his neck and he fell to the side. She flinched as black blood landed on her face, wiping it absentmindedly with her sleeve before raising her eyes to meet none other than Thorin's.

But of course.

"Who are you?" he called up to her. "What are you?"

"Um, could we possibly have this conversation later when I'm not dangling over a pit of death?" she asked nervously, hearing the rope creak ominously under her weight.

"Here." She glanced down, extending her hand through the bars carefully and catching the knife he had tossed her way by the handle. She cut through the rope holding the door shut, nudging it open with her elbow. "Jump!"

"Are you gonna catch me?"

"I will milady, you have my word."

"I'm heavier than I look," she warned him, stretching out her legs and wincing as they began cramping up.

"Most women are." Her lips curled back in a snarl when she heard those muttered words and she leapt from her perch, intent on landing on her feet without his damn help.

That had been the plan, at least until her legs decided they really didn't want to work and she essentially tumbled from the cage, head over heels before landing in his arms. He took a knee to ease her landing, setting her on her feet as he stood gracefully.

Brushing herself off and fixing the brass comb that held her hair at the back of her head and out of her face, she turned his way; "Darcy." He looked over at her questioningly. "My name's Darcy."

"Darcy," he repeated slowly and she nearly swooned at how delightful it sounded coming from him.

By the Valar she had it bad, didn't she?

"Yep, also lovingly known as Gandalf's 'royal pain in his royal arse'." She raised her voice loud enough so the wizard could hear her over the battle, rubbing at her left arm uncomfortably. A strange tingling sensation had begun at her elbow and reached the tips of her fingers. It wasn't painful, simply uncomfortable, like the pins and needles feeling you get when you hit your funny bone.

He turned her way, a fond smile on his lips. "Why am I not surprised to find you here, Miriel?"

"You tell me," she muttered, spinning a mule kick into one unfortunate goblin's stomach, punting him off the platform into the darkness below as the tingling sensation in her arm intensified. "And didn't we agree you wouldn't call me that any more? Living with elves for a hundred-odd years doesn't make me one of them, thank you very much."

"Then what are you if not an elf?" She glanced over her shoulder at the dwarf prince behind her.

"Fae-kind," Darcy said, evading a swipe from an axe as Thorin sidestepped her, cleaving the goblin neatly in two. "You have my gratitude. For saving my life, I mean."

"It was my pleasure," he replied as they stood back to back. "Tell me, how does a Fae become a prisoner of goblins?"

"Because said-Fae thinks she's invincible and finds she isn't more often than not," she replied sourly, flipping the knife around and burying it in her enemy's left eye socket with a sick wet noise before tossing it back and forth between her hands, wincing when the handle brushed the healing burns on her fingers.

"So, are the rumors true?"

"What rumors?"

"Do Fae truly…have wings?" She almost laughed at how timid he sounded, as though he were embarrassed to ask.

"Yep, poncy rainbow-hued and everything. I'll show you one day if we get out of this clusterfuck alive."

"Darcy-!"

"Sorry, sorry. Bad habit." She laughed nervously at the glare Gandalf gave her. Darcy dug her nails into her arm in an attempt to ease the almost obnoxious prickling sensation before sliding the sleeve back and looking at the black and silver glyphs slowly appearing on her inner forearm, symbolizing the debt she owed Thorin. She sucked in a breath and quickly shook her sleeve down to conceal the runes.

That was _not_ good…

She noticed Gandalf's eyes lingering on her arm before they met hers. "First one to fifty wins?" she asked in an attempt to divert attention from herself. Flexing her sharp nails, she dropped into a defensive crouch and got prepared for what was sure to be one hell of a fight.

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Onwards to zee next chapter~!


	3. Rescuing the Damsel, Part Two

A/N: Final revisions right here. Everything flows better, no more grammar booboos and all the fun stuff thanks to my lovely beta, insanity and co.

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Disclaimer: Do I really have to? Really? *sigh* fine. I don't own The Hobbit, Tolkien owns the book-verse, PJ has rights over the movie-verse. I don't own the cover photo nor do I own the lyrics to MC Hammer's 'Can't Touch This'. I only own my OC and make no profit off this.

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Chapter Three: Rescuing the Damsel, Part Two (Or 'in which the damsel kicks ass and chews bubblegum, 'cept she's all outta bubblegum or something like that...)

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"-da-na-na-na. Na-na, na-na, can't touch this, da-na-na-na-," Darcy hummed to herself, continuing to cut her opponents down, advancing through the ranks, utilizing the agility her bloodline graced her with. It did help that she wasn't weighed down by armor, but she would have given anything to have some more bodily protection aside from her leather jerkin and vambraces.

Good thing Thorin was picking up the slack.

A goblin swung a spear her way. She swayed back a step to avoid the barbed tip, blocking the second swing with her foot against the pole and knocking him off-balance. He took a knee to recover and so she smashed her own into his face. He sprawled onto the ground and she rested her foot on his scrawny throat.

"Not so fun when the tables are turned, eh?" she said mockingly, recognizing him by the scar through his left eye down to his chin as the one who had ambushed her to begin with. A grim smile graced her lips as she applied more pressure, delighting in the way he squealed in terror and writhed uselessly beneath her boot. She was so focused on the lovely shade of puce he was turning she nearly didn't hear Gandalf calling her name.

"-cy. What are you doing Darcy?" His voice was garbled, like he was speaking underwater. She couldn't hear him over the blood roaring in her ears, pupils narrowing to slits as her lip curled back in a silent snarl.

She hated goblins, almost as much as she hated Orcs and that was truly saying something.

She nearly jumped in alarm upon feeling Thorin's hand clasp her shoulder. She was suffering from an adrenaline dump, body feeling like a live copper wire and it took everything she had not to tear his arm from his socket for touching her.

"End him, Lady Darcy."

That was just great, wasn't it? Hadn't even known the bloke for ten minutes and he already saw her completely flip the ever-living-hell out on a goblin. By the Valar what a fantastic way to start to a friendship.

She pressed her heel down firmly against the creature's neck, relishing the sick crunch that elicited from the movement and he went still beneath her boot. Darcy shifted her eyes to meet the dwarf's, though rather than seeing disgust like she thought she would, she saw empathy, concern, and the faintest glimmer of approval in his eyes.

"Quick! Follow me!" Gandalf barked, breaking the awkward silence between the pair and they obediently began shadowing him across the patchwork of suspended bridges through Goblin Town.

Darcy easily kept pace with the wizard though she noticed the dwarves were having difficulty keeping up with the taller man. "Quickly you lot!"

"Faster!" She heard one of the dwarves call breathlessly as they continued running the gauntlet of goblins.

Several came running straight at the party and Darcy leapt up, utilizing their heads as stepping stones and kicking each one off the bridge as she did so. Landing nimbly on her feet she felt icy steel bite into her cheek, a few strands of hair fluttering to the ground. She glared at the goblin that had gotten a lucky swing in, rubbing her hand against the side of her face as she eyed the dagger in his hand with her blood on it.

He charged her recklessly and she spun to the right, reaching up and pulling the brass comb holding her hair back free before jamming the long, razor-sharp prongs into the side of his neck. She twisted it once, shredding muscles and blood vessels before jerking it out as blood gushed from the wound like a fountain. Messy but very effective, she'd have to thank Arwen again for giving it to her if she made it out of this one alive.

Not really giving a damn that it had recently been lodged in a goblin's jugular (seriously, she'd had worse things in her hair than goblin blood but that's another story for another time…) she wiped the comb quickly across her thigh and twisted it back into her hair.

The Fae glanced up, realizing she had gotten the attention of one of the younger dwarves. He looked like more of a scholar than a warrior, poor guy, and was clutching a war hammer fearfully to his chest with a slingshot sticking out of his jacket pocket a la 'Dennis the Menace' style, looking at her with wide eyes. Not that she could blame him, she too would be slightly freaked out upon seeing a woman stab a goblin in the throat with her hair piece like it was nothing.

She arched an eyebrow, tilting her chin up with a kind smile in a casual 'sup dawg?' sort of way. It was probably terrifying for him to see, considering half her face was covered in blood and dirt and her longer-than-average canines probably weren't helping her attempt at reassuring him.

"I'm Darcy."

"Uh-uh-I-I-Orí, at your service milady." He bowed jerkily, sweeping his arm to the right as he did so and accidentally smacking a goblin in the nose with the hammer.

"Good shot." She winked at him. "Let's make like shepherds and get the flock outta here, eh?"

"S-sounds good milady." With that Fae and dwarf began running once more, racing over a ladder between a broken area of the path. As soon as Darcy was over a tall dwarf with tattoos on his head broke the ladder to prevent the goblins from pursuing them.

There was so much going on at that point that Darcy had stopped fighting, tucking her borrowed knife into her right boot and simply focused on evading her enemies in order to save her energy for the shitstorm that was sure to come later on. If four hundred and thirty-odd years in Middle Earth had taught her anything it was that Murphy's Law seemed to be multiplied a thousand fold.

When things went wrong, they went wrong.

As though to validate her statement, when the group began approaching a bridge between two walls of the cavern the floor splintered before them. The Great Goblin broke through the underside of the bridge, pulling himself up onto it and forcing the group to stop as hundreds of goblins surrounded them.

"You thought you could escape me?!" he roared. He swung his mace at Gandalf twice, nearly striking him.

The wizard stumbled back to avoid the blow, nearly falling before Darcy and the tattooed dwarf pushed him upright. "Go get 'em champ," she whispered encouragingly.

"What are you going to do now, wizard?"

Darcy chuckled quietly, poor guy obviously didn't know who he was messing with. Gandalf glanced over his shoulder briefly, winking at her before leaping forward with surprising agility and poking the brute in the eye with his staff. The Great Goblin dropped his mace with a thud, clutching the side of his face.

"Ow!" he whined before Gandalf stepped forward, eviscerating him. He abruptly stopped whining, falling to his knees and clutching at his wounded abdomen, blood leaking through his fingers.

He nodded once, glancing up at the Istar. "Well, that'll do it."

"Not quite," Gandalf replied, drawing his sword across Ugly Bowie's throat and finishing him once and for all.

At least she certainly hoped so. It seemed as though inhabitants of Middle Earth had a nasty habit of not staying dead for very long…

As soon as his body fell, an ominous creaking noise followed and the section of bridge the motley crew had been standing on broke away from the rest and it began sliding down the side of the cave at an alarming pace.

After shamelessly screaming her head off and clinging to Orí (who was clinging back rather tightly himself) the platform landed at the bottom of the cave. A grunt of pain escaped her lips as the wood splintered around them, burying the group in timber.

Everyone was moaning and groaning, though Gandalf had already gotten free (by way of what must've been dark magic, seriously) and was looking back at the company. As Darcy began wiggling her way out from beneath the wreckage she heard one of the dwarves speak.

"Well, look at it this way-." She jerked her head over to look at a hat-wearing dwarf, eyes narrowed dangerously as one of the other dwarves spoke up.

"Don't you dare say it Bofur-!"

"-it could have been worse."

As soon as the words left his lips, the corpse of the Great Goblin landed on the rubble, squishing them further.

"Argh! You've got to be joking!"

"Ungh, why me?!" Darcy whined pitifully, pulling at her right leg that had been wedged between two boards, but she was unable to free herself.

"Here." Darcy glanced over at one of the younger dwarrows as he knelt, lifting the debris with a grunt of effort just enough so she could slip her leg out. He offered her a hand up and she gratefully took it, hissing between clenched teeth as she flexed her knee. It wasn't broken, just bruised and she hoped she'd be able to run on it.

Not that she really had a choice.

"You alright?" he asked, almost sounding concerned about her wellbeing. It was nice to know chivalry wasn't dead.

She smiled tiredly and nodded in response, kneeling beside him with a quiet grunt of pain and helping him lift a heavy beam off a white-bearded dwarf. She grit her teeth, trying to ignore how the timber rubbed unpleasantly against her raw palms. "You have my gratitude Master Dwarf, though I can assure you I've had much worse. I'll live."

"I fear that unless we reach daylight that statement of yours will be false, my dear. Run!"

* * *

They made fantastic time through the caverns, reaching the outside world in a matter of minutes. Darcy jogged passed Gandalf, who seemed to be taking a headcount of the motley crew.

"-seven, eight, Bifur, Bofur…that's ten…Fíli, Kíli and Bombur makes thirteen-that's everyone but-."

"Um, ahem?"

"Yes, yes, I see you little one." Darcy pouted at being dismissed so easily before Gandalf seemed to realize something.

"Where is Bilbo? Where is our hobbit? Where is our hobbit!?" Oh great, now they had a tweaking-out wizard to deal with. That was bloody fantastic, like he wasn't bad enough to deal with when he _wasn't_ freaking out…

"Curse the halfling! Now he's lost?"

"I thought he was with Dori."

"Don't blame me!"

"Where did you last see him?" Gandalf asked 'Dori' who pursed his lips, thinking hard for a moment before a dwarf with almost star-shaped hair spoke up.

"I-I think I saw him slip away, when they first ambushed us."

"What happened exactly, Nori? Tell me!" Darcy cocked a brow in surprise at how worried and frantic Gandalf sounded. Just what was a 'hobbit' anyway? She wasn't sure if she had ever seen one before.

She raised her head, the sound of hasty footsteps nearing the group almost inaudible even to her enhanced hearing. She swept her eyes slowly along the trees to her left but saw nothing.

'_Strange, I could've sworn_…'

"I'll tell you what happened." The group turned as one to face Thorin who looked absolutely livid. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He was speaking of returning to Rivendell not a few hours ago. We will not be seeing our hobbit again. He is long gone."

"No, he isn't."

_'Knew I heard something, so that's a hobbit huh_?' Darcy thought to herself, eyeing the small creature stepping out from behind a tree. He moved well for someone not being of elven-kind. She didn't even think she would be able to move so quietly, especially across the pine needles that littered the ground. Hobbits were strange beings. She smiled wryly at thought; who was she to be calling others strange when she wasn't exactly the poster child of 'normal' herself?

"Bilbo Baggins!" The golden-haired Fae jumped in alarm when Gandalf spoke. "I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!"

Bilbo?

Ohh! That hobbit! The one who gave Frodo the Ring! Right! Her mind was beginning to go in her old age it seemed…

The dwarves swarmed the hobbit, patting him on the shoulder and expressing their happiness to see him.

"How did you get past the goblins?"

Darcy knew she wasn't the only one who noticed Bilbo hesitate before answering, judging by the look on Gandalf's face.

Gandalf was quick to divert attention away from him. "What does it matter how? He's back, that's all that's important."

"It matters," Thorin said arrogantly. "I want to know why he came back." Darcy nearly flinched at the icy look he gave the hobbit. As he began monologuing about books and gardens and other things she looked over her shoulder to make extra sure the goblins hadn't pursued them, raising her chin and scenting the air. Her face contorted in disgust as the smell of wet dog filled her nose almost immediately followed by a series of low howls.

"Um, Gandalf," she said quietly, tugging at the wizard's sleeve and breaking the silence that had befallen the group. "I think we should leave."

He looked up to where she was pointing, face turning grim when the howling intensified. "Out of the frying pan," Thorin murmured as several wargs began descending the mountain side.

"And into the fire," Gandalf finished dryly, exchanging a look with him. "Run!"

Needless to say the group didn't have to be told twice.

* * *

So that's it for the revisions. Keep an eye out for chapter four, hopefully by this Sunday or Monday if all goes well and the stars are aligned and all that stuff. Cheers.


	4. The Obligatory Action Sequence

A/N: Many thanks to my beta, insanity and co, for putting up with my grammar errors and odd cultural references xD. You're such a peach! Also, thanks RagdollPrincess for the kind words and all those who have favorited/followed this so far.

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Disclaimer: I own The Hobbit! ...Okay, I don't, I just wanted to know what it felt like to say that and it was quite fun. The Hobbit is owned by JRR Tolkien, the movies by Peter Jackson. I only own my OC and make no money off this.

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Chapter Four: The Obligatory Action Sequence (Or 'In which Thorin tries to save the day, epically fails, and the damsel ends up saving him instead or at least tries to but ends up epically failing herself...')

* * *

Why, oh why, did this crap always happen to her?

How did she end up getting herself into such life-threatening situations?

It might've had something to do with the inability to keep her mouth shut and her ineptitude when it came to following simple commands from her betters, but that's beside the point…

…

Actually, that was the point. Had she only heeded Beorn's advice she wouldn't be in this mess. She had no one else to blame but herself and that was really, really annoying.

"_Do not be surprised when you go looking needlessly for trouble and it finds you, small one_..."

_'Ain't that the truth_?' she thought sourly to herself, recalling the words Beorn had often spoken to her. She glanced over her shoulder to see how far the warg pack was and choked back a cry of surprise when she saw how close they were.

Her head snapped forward once more and she made like a miniature, Faerie-version of Usain Bolt. She was capable of absurd feats of agility when frightened. It was a good thing too, seeing as how she didn't possess the upper body strength (nor did she possess the height) necessary to swing a broadsword around or draw the string back on a longbow. Much of her combat training had centered on grappling arts as a result, and the skillful use of a sword-breaker.

When she first came to Middle Earth all those years ago via a 'wonky magical portal', she had expected to join the Fellowship and save the world and fall in love with Legolas (though not necessarily in that order). She didn't plan on arriving some four hundred-plus years before the main story, being captured and tortured by orcs shortly after her arrival, and rescued by a giant bear-man.

She had spent the first seventy or so years of her life on Arda in the skin-changer's care, stewing over questions like why she was there, why she was a foot shorter than she remembered being, and also why she hadn't aged a day.

Good thing that on her one hundredth anniversary of being on Middle Earth (hell for short) a familiar gray-robed wizard came calling…

That same gray-robed wizard who was now yelling at the company to climb into the trees in an attempt to elude their attackers.

"They're coming!" She heard Thorin bellow, drawing her attention to the four wargs running up behind them. "Climb! Quickly!"

She easily bounded up, resting her hand against the trunk for balance. "Dori, our burglar-!" one of the dwarves yelled. Darcy glanced down and noted that the hobbit was still on the ground, having just freed his sword from a warg's skull. Seeing as she was the closest one she dropped to the lowest branch, hanging on with one hand and extending the other to the halfling.

"Hey!" she called down to him. "Gimme your hand!"

He glanced up fearfully but accepted the help, scrambling up the tree and she growled lowly in annoyance when she was accidentally kneed in the nose. She grumbled once more when he used her head as a stepstool, climbing higher into the tree. She followed suit after a moment, crouching on the branch beside him and leaning on the trunk for balance.

"Where did you come from?" She pursed her lips, glancing over at one of the taller dwarves of the group. The rest seemed to have just taken notice of her and were looking at her in shock save Thorin, Orí, and Blondie.

"The Void," she replied sarcastically, hissing in pain when she felt a pinecone smack her in the back of the head. No doubt courtesy of Gandalf.

"Th-thank you-," the hobbit stammered, bringing her attention back to him. "Um, I-I don't believe I know your name, miss-."

She had to chuckle at how polite he was being, even with the threat of death circling them not ten feet below. "I'm Darcy."

"Bilbo Baggins. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

The wargs had begun jumping and snapping at the company, breaking off lower branches in their powerful jaws and getting a bit too close for comfort at some points until suddenly they stopped.

The growling ceased as they turned almost as though on cue to look at an imposing pale orc approaching them on a white warg.

"Azog-?!" Thorin gasped in disbelief.

"_Nuzdigid? Nuzdi gast_?" Darcy couldn't suppress a fearful shiver at the sound of Black Speech, his words like poison to her ears as Azog patted the warg fondly.

As he finished speaking he raised his eyes to meet Thorin's, a smug smirk crossing his lips.

"No, it can't be-," the King breathed weakly, voice heavy with grief and Darcy found herself wondering what the orc had said.

"_Kod toragid biriz_," Azog addressed the riders; "_Worori-da_!"

Well, she knew what that _last_ bit meant…

At the command the wargs began jumping at the trees again, throwing their heavy bodies against the trunks. With the combined weight of the wolves, the tree Darcy and a few other dwarves were in began leaning. They soon succeeded in uprooting it much to the group's dismay.

"Well, shit," she stammered for the third time that day and stood on the branch, springing to the next tree and then the next with the others when they began to fall like dominoes.

They eventually ran out of trees to jump to, naturally, ending up in the one nearest to the edge of the cliff. It was standing firm however, at least for the time being.

"Fíli! Bilbo!" The pair glanced up only to have flaming pinecones tossed down to them by Gandalf. They jostled them about in a rather crude imitation of hot potato before lobbing them towards the pack. Had her hands not been so sore Darcy would have gleefully joined in the fun, but she settled for a celebratory fist pump whenever a pinecone hit its mark.

The group continued their aerial assault, setting at least one warg's fur alight and he ran off with his tail between his legs, setting the bushes and ground around him on fire and forcing the others to retreat from the inferno.

Cheers erupted from the group, though their cheers were cut off abruptly when the tree they had taken refuge in began giving way. When it fell over the edge of the cliff, hanging on by a few roots, was when the panic truly set in. Darcy scrambled for purchase on the branch she dangled from, ignoring the blood seeping from her fingertips and hauled herself upright.

"What's he doin'?" one of the dwarves asked nervously, drawing her attention to where Thorin was walking down the leaning trunk, sword in hand.

Darcy blinked back tears that had gathered in her eyes from the smoke and watched with the rest of the company in stunned silence. Their king advanced on the Pale Orc through the fire with what looked like a branch strapped to his arm as a shield.

She could almost hear 'Requiem for a Dream' playing in the background as he did so, it was _that_ badass.

Well, it _was_ badass until the white warg pounced on him, sending him sprawling to the ground on his back and proceeded to hand his ass to him.

She winced when the orc swung his mace, slamming it into Thorin's chest and knocking him off his feet for a second time. The warg lowered his head, clamping its powerful jaws around Thorin's body and he yelled in pain. He was brutally shaken a few times before striking the warg on the muzzle with his sword. The pale warg threw the dwarf king several feet away against a boulder. If that hit hadn't knocked him out he was certainly close to getting there after that blow.

Azog said something to another rider who dismounted and unsheathed his sword, starting towards the injured dwarrow.

_'Fulfill the debt, remove the mark_.' The words continued on an endless loop through the Fae's head, nearly driving her mad. Darcy crouched, preparing to spring to the ground and do just that.

'Least that had been the plan before the hobbit seemingly appeared out of nowhere, tackling the small orc to the ground. He drove his sword through the orc's chest several times before wrenching it free.

He was either very brave or very foolish, though from the way he was now waving his sword wildly in front of the orcs in an attempt to drive them back, Darcy was banking on the 'foolish' part.

A nasty smirk graced Azog's lips and he turned to the rider at his right. "Kill him."

Dismounting his warg the orc started forward, not the least bit intimidated by the halfling's 'swordsmanship'. He pulled a scimitar free from the belt on his hips, grinning madly and preparing to fulfill his master's wishes before a loud cry of 'Leeerrooyyy Jennnkkinnss!' split the air.

The orc glanced up just in time to see a blur of green and gold shoot towards him. Darcy kissed his jaw with the heel of her boot, snapping his head to the side with a sickening crunch that turned her stomach. He landed on his back, still twitching and gasping though his broken neck didn't allow any air to enter his lungs. She almost felt bad.

Almost.

Darcy placed herself at Bilbo's side between the orcs and Thorin, knife at the ready. The remainder of the riders started forward only for Azog to raise his hand, silently ordering them to halt before addressing her.

"What is this dethroned dwarf to you, girl?" he growled lowly.

"He saved my life so I saw fit to return the favor," Darcy shrugged casually. "How's Bolg? That eye of his giving him any problems?" He studied her for a moment, eyes narrowing dangerously in realization.

"Fairchild, you insolent wench," Azog snarled. "I should take yours as penance."

"You can try." She smiled shakily before crooking her finger in the universal sign for 'come at me, bro'.

Fortune favors the bold, right?

The white warg reared back and charged the pair, and she immediately regretted her decision. She stood her ground nonetheless beside Bilbo who, to his credit, wasn't trembling nearly as violently as she was.

It was quite embarrassing really.

Luckily for them, the other dwarves had finally gotten off the tree, flinging themselves into the fray. Darcy focused on killing the orcs the dwarves knocked from their mounts.

A surprised grunt escaped her when the white warg lunged forward once more, knocking her to the side and slamming its head into Bilbo's chest. The poor hobbit went sailing onto his back and she lost sight of him, much too busy trying to keep her head attached to her shoulders than keeping an eye on him.

Darcy yelped once more when she felt something akin to a train slam into the space between her shoulder blades, sending her to the ground on her front and knocking the wind out of her. She rolled to one side, narrowly avoiding being cleaved in two. The hook on the end of her attacker's sword caught onto her jerkin and tore the back of it open as well as the linen shirt she wore beneath it.

Rolling onto her back, she focused her watery gaze on the orc standing over her. The situation she found herself in was terrifyingly familiar and she hated herself for freezing in fear. She began scrambling backwards but his boot came down on her injured knee to keep her in place and she hissed in pain. Where the bloody hell was her knife!? She must have dropped it when he body checked her, damn it all.

"Don't worry, I'll make it quick for ya'," he cackled, raising his blade. Her breath hitched in her throat before a faint squawking reached her ears. What the hell was that?

He must have heard it as well because the orc paused, looking up at the same time she did only to have what looked like a giant eagle seize him in its talons and throw him several yards away.

'_Alrighty then. I accept._' She stood shakily, watching the Children of Manwë attack the orcs while others began picking up the bewildered dwarves. Darcy ducked as one flew over her head, grabbing two wargs and throwing them off the edge of the cliff. They fanned at the low-burning flames created from the group's pinecone assault earlier with their massive wings, sending showers of sparks into the air and driving the wolves back.

She spun around, seeing an eagle gingerly pick up Thorin. She heard Bilbo yell in surprise as he was abruptly snatched up and deposited onto the back of another eagle. Darcy knelt, grabbing the oak shield that had slipped from Thorin's arm and limped towards the edge of the cliff. They probably lost most of their gear when the goblins attacked them, like she did, and figured every last bit of armor would be beneficial to the group.

It seemed like the majority of the party was safe aside from her and Gandalf as she glanced up at him before seeing him jump off the branch and onto the back of another eagle.

"Oi! Where's my ride!?" she yelled to him though he simply beckoned for her to follow them. She pursed her lips, clutching the shield to her chest and exhaling sharply through her nose. She hated flying, really she did. There was a reason why she enlisted in the Navy and not the Air Force back in 'Lower Earth' as Gandalf had once referred to it as.

Darcy hissed through tightly clenched teeth, feeling her wings emerge from her back. It never stopped hurting, no matter how many times she did it. Luckily her shirt was already torn so she didn't need to worry about that.

'Small favors,' she thought to herself with a wry smile as she rolled her shoulders back, giving her colorful wings an experimental flap. They reminded her of butterfly wings, except ridiculously large and rather gaudy in all honestly.

Inhaling a quivery breath she took one last look over her shoulder, giving Azog a two-fingered salute before stepping off the edge.

She fell for several meters before catching an updraft thankfully. Darcy was able to latch onto the slipstream of Gandalf's eagle, ignoring the shocked looks and hushed whispers exchanged about her. She was more worried about the unconscious dwarf at the head of the group than their gossip.

* * *

They flew for miles it seemed, over rivers and plains though the dwarf prince didn't stir at all. Her eyelids were getting heavy, shoulders burning fiercely with effort and she nearly wept with relief when the eagles began circling a large rock formation that she recognized as the Carrock, getting ready to land.

Why was Gandalf leading them to the Carrock? Better question, what was a group of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit doing hiking in the Misty Mountains? She had never read The Hobbit, only knowing it was when Bilbo found the Ring and…

That was about all she knew of it.

Oh, and speaking of landing…

Her heart lodged in her throat as she angled her feet towards the ground. Unfortunately she was going faster than she thought and rather than a smooth landing, she crashed into the unforgiving side of the formation with a yelp of pain. She the ground and slid a few feet before coming to a stop.

Darcy groaned pitifully, cupping her jaw in her hand and hoping nobody had seen that. She tasted copper on her tongue and gingerly moved it about, wincing once more when she spat one of her molars into her palm.

"Ow," she whined, pressing her hand firmly against her cheek and sniffling quietly. She had gone forty years without losing a tooth and was upset to have broken that record. Staggering to her feet she felt her wings merge into her back with an uncomfortable stinging sensation. She took a moment to examine the branch shield in her hands; the wood was worn, several shallow scratches from blades were present in the bark though it seemed harder than iron, modified with metal fittings and inserts. There must've been some story behind it. She was rather curious as to what it was.

She started up the narrow gravel pathway to where the other dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf had landed. Upon reaching the top she saw Thorin embracing Bilbo in a bro-hug as the other members of the group looked on fondly. She purposely kicked at a loose stone to announce her presence and they all turned her way in freaky unison, a few holding their weapons at the ready.

"Um, hi." She waved halfheartedly before rubbing her cheek once more.

Gandalf rested a hand on her shoulder. "Everyone, this is Darcy Fairchild. Darcy, I would like you to formally meet the members of the Company."

"That's really not necessary Gandalf. I just wanted to return-."

"You know their leader, Thorin Oakenshield-." So the shield did have a story behind it. "-as well as young Orí and Master Baggins. Meet Dwalin and Balin. Norí and Dorí are Orí's brothers. That is Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur. The youngest are Fíli and Kíli and last but not least meet Oín and Gloín." Each dwarf nodded his head in acknowledgement after the mention of his name.

The Fae stared at the wizard blankly before looking at the assembled group. Did he honestly expect her to remember all that?

Polite greetings were exchanged regardless as the group began talking about their next course of action. Darcy took the opportunity to confront Thorin when he stepped away from the group.

"Here, this belongs to you." He glanced over, eyes widening when she held the shield out to him.

"Why did you-?"

"I don't know, seemed important to you." She smiled feebly at him. "That and because I was kinda hoping you'd forgive me for losing the knife you borrowed me if I brought it to you." He arched a brow at those rushed words before the corner of his mouth upturned into a lovely little half-smile, eyes shining with amusement at the situation.

"I suppose that's fair enough. Thank you, Lady Fairchild." He accepted the shield, running his large hand over the rough surface delicately before lashing it carefully to his back.

"Is that-?" They both looked over at the hobbit when he began speaking

"Erebor. The Lonely Mountain, last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth."

"Our home." She couldn't help but smile slightly when she heard the pride in Thorin's voice as he spoke of the mountain, regretting it when doing so sent pain shooting through her jaw.

"Look! A raven! Birds are starting to return!"

Gandalf chuckled quietly, looking over to a white-haired dwarf. "That, my dear, Oín, is a thrush."

"We shall take it as a sign, a good omen!" Thorin exclaimed, practically beaming. Darcy took the opportunity to slip away from the group, hearing Bilbo say something about the worst being behind them.

He was right of course, considering they were being hunted by Azog so the worst was literally still behind them.

_'Sucks to be them_,' she thought grimly to herself, starting down the pathway once more. When she was out of sight Darcy rolled her left sleeve back, nearly growling when she saw the runes were still present.

"Bilbo saved him, not you." She glanced over her shoulder towards Gandalf who had seemingly materialized behind her. "Though I think I may know of a way you can clear your debt."

"How? Tell me Gandalf," she said without thinking, desperate to get rid of the glyphs marring her skin.

A smile crept slowly over his lips and she suddenly found herself wishing she never asked him that.

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Da-da-daaaahhh! We can finally move on to other things and actually get the story moving and Darcy and Thorin can have some semblance of a conversation yay! Next chapter will be interesting, the journey to Beorn's house and meeting the skin-changer himself which will be rather…entertaining to say the least I suppose…

Speaking of which, I decided to take creative liberties and make Beorn immortal. I know he's supposed to have the lifespan of a normal man (I can't remember where I read that but I swear I did) but it seems like a bad deal to be able to shape-shift and only live sixty or seventy years. So yeah, sorry if any Tolkien purists are offended by that (are there any that actually read Canon/OC pairings…? I don't know).


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